


like a kiss

by bastigod



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Atsumu suffers, Background Relationships, M/M, SakuAtsu Week, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23457424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastigod/pseuds/bastigod
Summary: "Hypothetically speakin'..." Atsumu refused to meet Bokuto's eyes as he spoke. There was no higher power in this world or the next that willed him to look at the smug grin about to spread across Bokuto's face. "Is it possible for someone ta just never get a mark?"Happy SakuAtsu Week!Prompt: Mouths/Marks
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 40
Kudos: 1769
Collections: Haikyuu, One shots, SakuAtsu Fics for Midterm Procrastination, SakuAtsu Week 2020





	like a kiss

Osamu got his mark in their third year of middle school. He’d woken up to discover black and red geometric lines snaking across his bicep.

Naturally, Atsumu was jealous.

Not that their mother would ever outwardly admit it, but Osamu was the favorite twin. He was more responsible, more relaxed, less prone to histrionics. Still an idiot, of course. But he was the one grannies would coo over at the Fresh Bazaar.

And now he was destined to find his soulmate before Atsumu would.

In a fit of prepubescent fury, Atsumu nearly snuck into his little sister’s room to steal a marker out of her desk and draw one himself. But that cat would be let out of the bag at volleyball practice, when hot pink ink mixed with sweat and bled down his arm.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous sweetie.” Their mother said at the breakfast table, concealing her joyful smile behind a demure hand. Atsumu grumbled into his cereal.

“‘Samu! ‘Samu! Can I color it in?! Pretty please!” Hiromu was already plucking markers out of her schoolbag, brown eyes as big as the moon paired with a well-practiced pout. Atsumu rolled his eyes as he laced his shoes.

“I’m proud of ya, son. Y’know, I had a buddy back in college wit’ one on his…” Their father said, leaning over to whisper something scandalous into Osamu’s ear. His brother laughed. Atsumu sulked in the back seat.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A year later, the promise of Osamu’s soulmark came to fruition. 

Inarizaki VBC tryouts. He and another first year jumped to block a spike. Arms bump. Eyes wide, a spark they both felt. The ball tumbles to the ground.

“C’mon, Samu, ya gotta get tho-” Atsumu stopped when he noticed his brother and the tryout stare dumbly at one another.

“You’re Atsumu, right?” The tryout said.

“Gross. That’s this idiot.” Osamu gestured a thumb at his twin. “I’m Osamu.”

A wicked toothy grin bloomed across the other boy’s face. “Suna Rintarou. Just moved here from Tokyo.” Atsumu watched, eyebrows furrowed so hard they threatened to permanently stay that way, as the two lifted their sleeves. There, only faintly visible against Suna’s skin, was the simple outline of a white triangle.

_Of. Fucking. Course._

Osamu laughed. Atsumu’s fingers twitched. He desperately wanted to wrap them around his brother’s throat and squeeze until he couldn’t make that horrific sound ever again. “I di’n’t even know I was inta dudes.”

“Me either, honestly.” Suna said with a shrug.

“Wanna hang tomorrow?” Osamu smiled.

Atsumu’s. Fingers. Twitched.

_I. Will. Murder. Him. In. His. Sleep._

“Hell yeah.” Suna cuffed him on the shoulder, arm snaking around Osamu’s neck to rest there. Atsumu waited for his brother to shrug it off, but he never did. “We could go to the movies? Thor just came out.”

“Yo.” Atsumu cracked his knuckles to quell their murderous desires. “Ya love birds wanna stop interruptin’ practice now?”

The two stared at him like he suddenly grew a second head. Osamu leaned over to whisper something in Suna’s ear. Their eyes flick to Atsumu in sync and they snicker.

He’s gonna have to put up with this for the rest of his life, isn’t he?

“Ah.” Suna grinned at Atsumu’s expense. “He’s jealous, then.”

Atsumu silently prayed that a truck would fall from outer space and crush him, dramatically, in the center of the Inarizaki gym.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Gin got his just two weeks later. A tiny but elegant sword on his pointer finger.

A year later, that spark came in math class when he gently tapped the shoulder of the sleeping girl in the seat in front of him. Atsumu thought he was going to feel sick when Gin described how her grey eyes sparkled like shining armor.

Aran’s came on the last day of classes. A black outline of Saturn on the palm of his right hand.

On the day of his graduation, Aran found one final confession in his locker. _Meet me by the pond._ Waiting for him was the tall, gorgeous captain of the girl’s soccer team. “If I had a second button to give, it’d be for you.” Aran recounted to them later. She, instead, deposited a homemade omamori into his hand.

Kita’s appeared the same day Aran received his confession. A gorgeous garden of red, purple, and pink flowers spread across his forearm.

Atsumu realized, several years later in the middle of a Black Jackals game, when he absolutely should not have been thinking about his high school captain’s love life, that he never asked Kita who it was. He filed a mental note to ask him, but promptly forgot it before the next set.

By the time it was Atsumu’s turn to graduate, he had become the sole member of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club without a mark. Including the baby first years, who all were destined to have childhood or high school sweethearts.

Gross.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Atsumu clenched his teeth so hard he wondered if it was possible to break your teeth through sheer force alone.

“B……..Bokuto-kun.”

"Yeah?!" Bokuto's head popped into the aisle of the Black Jackals bus. Atsumu would've preferred to talk to literally anyone else about this. But waking up Meian-san was essentially a death sentence and his senpais behind him were deeply engrossed in an animated conversation.

"Hypothetically speakin'..." Atsumu refused to meet Bokuto's eyes as he spoke. There was no higher power in this world or the next that willed him to look at the smug grin about to spread across Bokuto's face. "Is it possible for someone ta just never get a mark?"

Bokuto let out a laugh that Atsumu would best categorize as a squawk. “You’re still on about that Tsum-Tsum?”

His teammate received his mark on his first day of high school, a green outlined Earth on the palm of his hand. Its partner was a golden star on Akaashi Keiji’s shoulder. 

“Shut up.” Atsumu felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“Keiji said,” Bokuto started, purposefully pausing in anticipation for the groan Atsumu let out. Hearing Bokuto call Akaashi ‘Keiji’ made him want to jump out the emergency window and everyone knew it. “That there’s maybe a one percent chance you don’t get one. Those people don’t get ‘em because they smell.”

“What.” Atsumu finally met Bokuto’s eyes, gold and round and entirely too sincere. “They smell?”

“Yeah!” Bokuto grinned. “He called it being ‘aromantic’”

“Bo… tha’s not… what…” Atsumu pinched the bridge of his nose in a pitiful attempt to regain his composure. “Do ya think that... maybe... I’m not gonna get mine?”

Bokuto loudly sniffed. “You smell like apples, so you might be at risk.”

“Aight. Forget I ever asked.”

“Yo, Tsum-Tsum?” Bokuto’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah?”

“You got some shit on your face.” Bokuto licked the tip of his thumb and reached towards Atsumu. He was promptly swatted away, but not before leaving a swipe of spit across his cheek.

“Dude, gross.”

Atsumu opened his phone camera, nearly dropping it in shock.

There, trailing from his top lip to his cheekbone were three golden claw marks.

Finally, after twenty-one years, he received his soulmark.

And it was on his fucking face.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Tryouts will be here in just a few minutes.” Coach Foster spoke, his peculiar Scouse accent poking through the cracks of his Japanese. His eyes snapped immediately to Atsumu and then to Bokuto next to him. “Behave.”

Atsumu raised his hands in mock surrender. In the corner of his eye, Bokuto grinned.

An assistant coach scurried to open the locker room door. One by one the tryouts emerged, properly introducing themselves before the next came. They did this whole song and dance biannually and Atsumu long ago stopped pretending to care about an army of guys who’d survive only a single tryout.

“I’m Hinata Shouyou!” Atsumu was jolted from his bored daze to see an incredibly tan and incredibly orange familiar face. “I’m 21 and a wing spiker! I went to Karasuno High School in Miyagi and until recently, I was a semi-pro beach volleyball player!”

“Shou-kun?” Atsumu said, at the same time Bokuto let out a bellow of “HEY! HEY! HEY! HINATA!”

“Atsumu-san!” A smile lit up on Hinata’s face. “Bokuto-san!” 

For a moment, Atsumu pondered if Hinata was his soulmate. He’d always had an interest in Karasuno’s tiny ray of sunshine, ever since they first faced each other back in high school. He couldn’t recall ever seeing a soulmark anywhere on him, either.

Hinata glanced sheepishly at Coach Foster, who nodded, before rushing forward to hug Bokuto. 

Then, he buried his head in the crook of Atsumu’s neck, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders.

And…

Nothing.

Suddenly, in a wave of self-embarrassment, Atsumu remembered shaking Hinata’s hands after both Inarizaki-Karasuno games.

Idiot. 

Hinata scrambled back into the line-up as Coach Foster called for the next tryout.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi. 22. Wing Spiker. Itachiyama High School. Tokyo Sport University.” Sakusa spoke with all the enthusiasm of a man reading the phone book on beat poetry night. Though in the grand scheme of Sakusa, that meant he was pretty excited.

_Why was he here?_

He and Atsumu had had a strenuous relationship back in high school. Sakusa would cast withering glares across the net and Atsumu would pay him back with cocky dumps. He’d lost Inarizaki several points over those three years trying to be a show off, but every single one was worth it for a single smug smile cast in Sakusa’s direction.

After games, he refused to shake hands with anyone, opting for a simple wave. But Atsumu never even received such a luxury. Sakusa would clench his fist as they passed one another, a tiny vindictive smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Always so prideful that he’d beaten Atsumu yet again.

So, to see his high school enemy here, after all this time, trying out for the Jackals? Atsumu was dumbfounded.

“Why are you here?” Atsumu spoke, instantly regretting the fact that he never developed a proper filter. He could feel Coach Foster’s eyes boring into him from across the room.

“Excuse me?” Sakusa donned his signature scrunched up face, his already dark eyes threatening to morph into vantablack.

A loud clap made both of them flinch, faces turning towards Coach Foster. “Alright lads. You two can continue this after practice. Bring out the next try out.”

Atsumu let out a long exhale as the final player emerged from the locker room.

This was gonna be a long day.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, Sakkun.”

A certified fresh Sakusa glower was cast in his direction as the two sat alone in the locker room. He had already changed into street clothes, wet curls still hanging in his face. 

“Why’re ya tryin’ out for us?” Atsumu asked as he pulled on a fresh shirt.

“Why?” Sakusa echoed.

“Ya heard me.”

“Must I have a reason?”

“Well, duh. I bet ya had the whole damn league scramblin’ after ya. Yet ya decide to tryout here.” Sakusa stopped shoving his volleyball shoes into his bag, eyes focusing on his hands instead. “Ya here to steal our team strats? Then go try out for another team? That what this is?”

“No.” Atsumu didn’t know if it was physically possible for a human being to snarl, but if it was, that was the sound that escaped from Sakusa’s throat. “The Jackals are the best team with the best players. Simple as that.” His tone was terse and strained. He’d never heard Sakusa this worked up before.

“The best players? You make me laugh. I know you fuckin’ despise me, princess. Ya have since high school.” Atsumu really, really, really, wished he wasn’t fucking talking right now.

There was a rush of movement in his vision, and he was convinced that finally, after all these years, he was going to get crushed by a truck falling from outer space.

He felt a fist collide with his face. It wasn’t hard, Osamu’s nailed him with worse ones during play fights, but Atsumu felt like he’d been shocked. Pain radiated throughout his head as he staggered backwards. He raised a tentative hand to his mouth, his upper lip already swelling.

“Fuck.” Atsumu finally managed to blink his eyes open. Sakusa stood there panting, eyes the size of dinner plates, fist still clenched.

“Wait.” Sakusa spoke breathlessly. His eyes swept to his fist and Atsumu's followed. There, on his middle finger, was a red-orange mark.

“S…” The name died in Atsumu’s mouth as Sakusa stepped forward to grab the front of his shirt. His eyes trailed to the right hand buried in the fabric. A fox. “Heh. Y’know, Sakkun… I always ‘spected the touch to be somethin’ nice, like a kiss.”

Sakusa’s head dropped, the weight heavy against Atsumu’s chest. “Please. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“Now, that ain’t no way to talk to yer soulmate.”

Sakusa stumbled backwards, nearly pulling Atsumu down in the process. His butt landed on the locker room bench with a thump. “I…” Sakusa started, not willing to look up at him. “I had a hunch it was you.”

“Ehhhh?”

“Kita told me you hadn’t gotten yours til a year ago.” Sakusa was staring at his fingers, flexing them one by one. “Which is about the same time I got mine. Not to mention it’s a fox.”

“Ok, hold up a fuckin’ minute?” Atsumu felt his brain bluescreen. “How the fuck are you friends with Kita?”

Sakusa finally looked up from his hands. “Kita’s soulmate is my ex. We remained friends.”

Atsumu needed to sit down. Maybe lay down on the floor. Let the earth retake him. “Yer a terrible comedian, Sakkun.”

“In all honesty…” Sakusa grumbled through clenched teeth, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ve had a crush on you since high school.”

What.

It was a confession. Sakusa just confessed to him. But there were no butterflies fluttering in Atsumu’s throat nor heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he felt like he’d just been spit on. Like Sakusa had viciously insulted his mother. Like he’d grabbed Atsumu by the ruff and threatened to hurl him off a moving bullet train.

“What.” Atsumu finally said, only managing to parrot the singular thought bouncing around his skull. 

“I… never tried to do anything. Or say anything.” Sakusa’s dark expression shifted to something completely unreadable. “Or risk touching you. Didn’t want to break my own heart.”

Who the fuck is this and why did he steal Sakusa’s body?

“H...Dude.” Atsumu prodded his fingers against his swollen lip. “I’m gettin’ some serious mixed signals here.”

Sakusa squeezed out a glob of fruity hand sanitizer into his palm, taking extra time to massage it into his reddened fist. “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Atsumu choked out a laugh, making Sakusa flinch. 

“If you apologized for that I’d hafta call an exorcist. I mean… first, we figure out we’re soulmates. Then ya say yer friends with Kita and yer ex… girlfriend? Boyfriend? What fuckin’ ever. Don’t care. Then that ya have a crush on me. ME! Of all people. That’s enough out of character shit outta ya for one day, thank you very much.”

Atsumu wondered if he was hallucinating the corners of Sakusa’s mouth curving slightly upwards. He wondered if he was hallucinating all of this, frankly.

“You’re annoying.”

“Tha’s better.”

The room fell silent as they returned to packing up, both of them remembering why they were in the locker room in the first place.

Atsumu attempted to steal glances at Sakusa, to take in the man the universe decided he was meant to be with. But each time, those stormy eyes caught him, dark and unreadable. Atsumu wondered what stewed in that brain of his, what mysteries lingered in the depths.

He wanted to jump in.

This was his soulmate. A brooding germaphobe, with glowering glares and a flat voice. A dedicated volleyball player, with silky curls and night sky eyes. 

Of all the people in the world, him.

“Hey…” Atsumu spoke softly, hoisting his gym bag over his shoulder. “What’re we gonna do ‘bout this?”

Sakusa stood up, mirroring Atsumu’s action. “Hm?”

“We could, I dunno, go on a date? Get dinner?” Atsumu tried. 

Sakusa stared down at his hands yet again, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “I think…”

Atsumu flinched as Sakusa’s hand reached out for the second time that day. Fingertips ghosted over the golden mark on Atsumu’s face, thumb resting just below his swollen lip.

“There’s no reason to rush.”

Atsumu desperately wanted to snatch at those long fingers. Maybe break them. Maybe squeeze them. Maybe delicately explore those bony knuckles with the pad of his thumb. Maybe see how they interlocked with his own.

“We got some issues to work out first. Clearly.”

By the time Atsumu’s brain had fully processed what the hell just happened, those fingers were gone, pulled close to Sakusa’s chest, rubbed with hand sanitizer.

“Ya gotta stop touchin’ me if we’re takin’ this slow.”

Sakusa laughed. 

Just three low and dry ha's, genuine, unfiltered, unrestrained.

Adorable.

If anything about Sakusa could be considered adorable.

“Fine by me.”

**Author's Note:**

> can u even call them ushikita crumbs if only one is named
> 
> hope you enjoyed~!
> 
> @newttext made fanart of this work [here](https://twitter.com/newttxt/status/1249276093871185920?s=19).
> 
> check out my twitter [@andraste_](https://twitter.com/andraste_/status/1257522627129860096) for more #sakuatsuweek content. I have a little bit of somethin for every day


End file.
